Hi everyone! Lulu here! I haven't written one of my innuendo-filled sillyfics for a while, so here's one for you, inspired by an email exchange with the one and only (thank goodness) JWood201. What can I say- we're both 12 years old. :)
It was another beautiful morning on the island. A cooling breeze blew in from the sea, bringing with it the sharp, tangy scent of the ocean. Palm leaves swished gently overhead while various birds trilled lazily in the trees.
The Skipper and the Professor were sitting at the bamboo table enjoying a rare moment of quiet time. The Professor was reading 'A World of Facts', while the Skipper was cleaning and sharpening his pocketknife and humming a sea shanty to himself. Presently he put down the knife and looked up, cupping his hand to his ear. "Do you hear that, Professor?" he said.
The Professor emerged from the pages of his book with a cocked eyebrow. "I don't hear a thing," he replied.
"Exactly!" the Skipper chuckled. "Isn't it peaceful without Gilligan around?"
The Professor opened his mouth to say something and then closed it and nodded towards the trees. "Don't speak too soon," he sighed.
Gilligan came striding out of the jungle into the clearing. The Skipper's face fell and he let out a low groan. "I might have known it wouldn't last," he muttered.
Oblivious to the Skipper's now grumpy expression, Gilligan sauntered cheerfully over and plonked himself down onto a chair, reaching for the fruit bowl that stood in the center of the table.
"Hi, Skipper, hi Professor," he mumbled, shoving a handful of grapes into his mouth.
"Hello, Gilligan," the Skipper said, pointedly. "I thought you were away butterfly hunting for the day?"
"I was." Gilligan dribbled grape juice as he spoke. "But then I got dis...dis..." His brow furrowed. "Dis..."
"Oh, Gilligan! Spit it out," the Skipper grumbled.
Gilligan looked at the Skipper in puzzlement. Then he shrugged and spit a mouthful of grape pulp onto the sand.
"You said spit it out!" he complained, after receiving a swat from the Skipper's hat.
"I meant what you were trying to say, not what you were trying to eat!"
"Distracted?" The Professor offered. "You were busy and then you got distracted?"
Gilligan nodded enthusiastically. A big, dimpled grin spread across his face. "Yeah! I got distracted!" he beamed.
"Gilligan, you're the biggest distraction around here," the Skipper sighed. "What could possibly distract you?"
"Mary Ann's jugs," said Gilligan, pushing another handful of grapes into his mouth.
There was a significant pause while Gilligan's words sank in. Meanwhile, the happy First Mate kept eating grapes, chewing noisily and grinning to himself.
"Excuse me, Gilligan?" the Skipper said at length. "Would you mind repeating what you just said?"
"I didn't say anything." Gilligan looked up and around as though some words might be floating about in mid air.
"What you said a few moments ago," the Professor clarified, shooting an amused glance at the Skipper, who looked anything but amused.
"Oh, yeah!" Gilligan brightened. "I got dis...dis..."
"...tracted," prompted the Professor.
"Distracted..." Gilligan nodded, "by Mary Ann's jugs."
The Skipper and the Professor stared at each other in wonder and bewilderment.
"Gilligan," the Skipper began, slowly. "I don't know if you realise, but it's very bad manners to talk about Mary Ann that way, never mind using the word 'jugs'."
Gilligan looked perplexed. "What way? All I said was, I got dis...that thing, by Mary Ann's jugs. What's wrong with that? Besides, they're really neat jugs. You oughta see 'em." He popped another grape into his mouth and grinned around it.
The Professor coughed loudly into a handkerchief which he then folded in half to mop his brow. "Is it hot, or is it me?" he murmured.
"It's hot," the Skipper said, pulling at his collar.
"Of course it's hot, we're on a tropical island," Gilligan pointed out. Then, warming to his theme, he put down the bunch of grapes he'd been clutching and began using his hands to describe rounded shapes in the air. "Boy, Skipper, I never saw such beautiful jugs like Mary Ann's. They're about this size, see, and this nice kinda round shape, and they're really smooth, I don't know how she got 'em so smooth, must be how she handles 'em, she kinda..." and he mimicked massaging the air with his fingers until the Skipper made him stop.
"Gilligan!" he barked. "That's enough!"
"Now, Skipper," the Professor interrupted. "We did ask Gilligan to elucidate."
"I thought you asked me to tell you what I got distracted by," said Gilligan.
"That's what 'elucidate' means," said the Professor.
"Why didn't you say that in the first place?" Gilligan pouted. "Boy, Professor, you sure do make things difficult for yourself."
The Skipper was about to smack Gilligan with his cap again when Mary Ann turned up, her pretty face glowing. "Hello, boys!" she smiled, her brown eyes shining.
"Hey, Mary Ann!" Gilligan greeted his second best friend on the island. "I was just telling Skipper and Professor about your jugs!"
The Skipper's mouth fell open and the Professor's expression turned decidedly pained. They both looked from the First Mate to Mary Ann and then back again. Mary Ann's smile never wavered, she just stood at the end of the table looking very pleased with herself.
"Mary Ann, I must apologize on behalf of my very rude little buddy here," the Skipper began, but the Kansas farm girl cut him off before he had a chance to finish.
"Why?" she asked. "I'm happy to show Gilligan my jugs! It's nice to get a second opinion before I start showing them to everyone else."
The Skipper made a strange noise in the back of his throat, as though he had just swallowed one of Mr. Howell's golf balls.
Mary Ann continued, oblivious to the odd looks being sent her way. "Gilligan thought they were perfectly nice jugs, didn't you, Gilligan?"
"Uh-huh," Gilligan nodded, enthusiastically. "And the best bit was when she let me hold them!"
The Skipper began gasping like a landed trout. The Professor blinked several times. His expression remained unchanged, but a bead of sweat broke out on his forehead.
"They fit nicely in your hands, didn't they, Gilligan?" Mary Ann smiled fondly at Gilligan, then faced the other men. "It's very important to have the right sized jugs, Skipper. You don't want them to be too big, or they'll be too heavy to lift when they're full!"
"Yeah," Gilligan agreed. "And then all your milk will spill out!"
The Skipper nearly fell off his chair. "Gilligan!" he yelled.
"What did I say wrong this time?" asked Gilligan, indignantly.
"Everything, Gilligan, everything!" shouted the Skipper. "Didn't I tell you it's rude to talk about Mary Ann's jugs?" The word was out of his mouth before he realised it, and he turned bright red with embarrassment. "Mary Ann! I didn't mean...that is, what I meant was..."
"Oh, Skipper, it's perfectly all right!" Mary Ann's laughter tinkled through the air like fairy wings. "I'm glad Gilligan got to see my jugs before everyone else did. I was worried they weren't as nice as Ginger's jugs, but Gilligan assured me they were even better."
This time it was the Professor who turned bright red and nearly fell off his chair. "Ginger's jugs?" he croaked.
"Yes," Mary Ann nodded. "They might be bigger than mine, but size isn't everything. Right, Gilligan?"
"Right," Gilligan grinned.
"I don't think I can take any more of this," the Skipper sputtered.
"Ginger's jugs," the Professor repeated, in a voice that was almost inaudible. His forehead was visibly shiny now.
"I'll tell you what, boys," Mary Ann smiled. "I was going to wait until dinnertime to show you my jugs, but why don't you come with me now? I'll show you mine, and maybe Ginger will show you hers too." With that, the perky farm girl turned on her heel and went trotting out of the clearing.
Gilligan got to his feet immediately and followed Mary Ann like a faithful puppy . "Come on, Skipper, Professor," he called back over his shoulder. "Wait 'till you see those jugs, you won't believe your eyes!"
The Skipper and the Professor remained at the table while Gilligan's red shirt disappeared into the trees. Then they glanced furtively at each other.
"Well, Professor? What do you think?" the Skipper asked, looking rather guilty.
The Professor drew in a long breath and raised his eyebrows. "Well, it's not as if we haven't been invited..."
They looked at each other for a few moments, trying to weigh up each other's thoughts. Then they scrambled up out of their seats at the same time and made a mad dash for the trees in the same direction as Mary Ann and Gilligan. 'A World of Facts' lay discarded on the table, its pages fluttering in the disturbance of air that the two men left behind as they ran hastily out of the clearing.
"So?" asked Mary Ann. "What do you think? My jugs or Ginger's?"
"Don't be silly, Mary Ann. My jugs are much rounder than yours," said Ginger.
"But mine are more compact, more delicate," Mary Ann countered.
"Yours are lopsided," Ginger pouted.
"They are not!" Mary Ann cried. "My jugs are not lopsided! Are they, Gilligan?"
"Don't ask him," Ginger snorted. "He'll just agree with everything you say."
"They're not lopsided, Mary Ann," said Gilligan, his eyes fixed rigidly on the objects displayed in front of him.
"See?" said Ginger.
"Well! I'll ask the Professor, then. Professor, are my jugs lopsided?"
The Professor and the Skipper stared, crestfallen, at the potter's wheel and the table in front of it, upon which stood an assortment of different shaped jugs. Not just the smooth, firm, rounded jugs that Gilligan had promised, but tall jugs and small jugs, fat jugs and slender jugs. Jugs with elegant spouts and jugs with stubby spouts. Jugs with big handles and jugs with handles that looked like they'd snap the minute you filled them with water. Mary Ann's jugs stood separate from Ginger's jugs and the two girls stood behind the table with their eyes fixed firmly on the two men, awaiting their judgement. It was clear that both Mary Ann and Ginger expected their own jugs to be voted the winners.
"Well?" Mary Ann repeated. "Are they?"
"Um..." the Professor fumbled for the right words. "They look...they look..." he trailed off, unable to decide, and trying hard not to offend either of the girls.
"Here, Professor," Ginger said, lifting one of the larger vessels. "Why don't you hold one of my jugs and feel the difference?"
The Professor gulped loudly. "Ginger, I don't really need to hold your jugs," he mumbled, visibly perspiring.
"That's not what you said earlier," the Skipper whispered out of the side of his mouth.
"That was when I didn't realise they meant jugs," the Professor whispered back.
While all this was going on, Gilligan stood off to one side, his attention already wandering. The girls' voices rose higher and shriller as the men kept blustering, and soon all the voices began to blend into each other as the sun rose higher in the sky and butterflies began appearing. He watched, transfixed as one iridescent winged insect fluttered after another and disappeared into the jungle.
"If you say Mary Ann's jugs are nicer than mine, Professor, I'll never speak to you again!" Ginger protested.
"If you say Ginger's jugs are nicer than mine, Skipper, you can sew up your own pants the next time you rip them!" Mary Ann chimed in.
"Ladies, please! Both of you have beautiful jugs!" the Skipper said, his tone pleading for calm as the girls faced off against each other.
"That's no answer!" Ginger pouted.
"It's the best one I could think of!" the Skipper retorted.
"Well!" said Mary Ann. "At least Gilligan gave me an honest answer! Gilligan thought my jugs were the nicest he'd ever seen!"
"Gilligan doesn't know one end of a jug from the other," Ginger huffed.
"That's for sure," the Skipper deadpanned.
"He does too!" said Mary Ann, indignantly.
Ginger rolled her eyes. "Mary Ann, honey, Gilligan just says whatever you want to hear."
"He does not!"
"Ladies," the Professor said.
"You keep out of this!" Ginger commanded. The Professor blinked and closed his mouth immediately.
"Gilligan is the one that got us into this mess in the first place," the Skipper rumbled. "Turning up at the huts all excited and saying how great Mary Ann's jugs were!"
The Professor coughed loudly. Ginger looked at the Skipper suspiciously. The Skipper fumbled his hands together and blushed. "That is to say...he...um..."
"Well, he certainly got the two of you running over here as though the place was on fire," said Ginger. What did you think he meant, Skipper?"
"We-ell, I...I'm sure he meant..." the Skipper pointed to the array of earthenware. "You know. Jugs."
A light began to dawn in Ginger's eyes. Her emerald green irises twinkled merrily, as though suddenly lit from within. "I know what you thought he meant!" she declared. And then her eyes narrowed and she crossed her index fingers together in a sawing motion, back and forth. "Tch, tch, tch," she chided, smiling naughtily.
The Skipper went deep crimson like a little boy caught with his hands in the cookie jar. "Well, I was in the Navy," he grinned, coyly.
Ginger's smile widened and she turned to Mary Ann. She cupped her hand over the farm girl's ear and began whispering. The Skipper and the Professor shuffled uncomfortably as Mary Ann's eyes grew larger and larger with every hushed word that Ginger said. Finally her mouth opened in a small 'o' and she stared in disbelief at the Skipper.
"Skipper! Surely you didn't think...!"
"They did think," purred Ginger, patting her hair into place and adjusting the straps of her dress in a way that made her bosoms heave seductively.
"But, Ginger...where on earth did they get that idea from?"
"From Gilligan!" the Skipper blustered.
"Oh!" Mary Ann cried. "Gilligan would never be so...so rude!" She folded her arms unconsciously across her chest. "Skipper. I'm surprised at you," she scolded.
"And don't keep blaming Gilligan!" Mary Ann turned aside and refused to look at the big man, lifting her chin into the air.
"But it was Gilligan!" the Skipper pressed on, to no avail.
"You agreed that Gilligan wouldn't know one end of a...a jug from the other," Mary Ann said, coolly. "So any misunderstanding was yours and yours alone. And yours," she added, including the Professor in her icy rebuke.
"Speaking of Gilligan," said the Professor in a game attempt to break the stalemate, but also because he felt decidedly uneasy having his behaviour disapproved of by Mary Ann, whom he admired greatly. "Where is he?"
The Skipper, grateful for the reprieve, began looking around in a slightly exaggerated fashion. Everyone else looked around too, but the First Mate was nowhere to be seen.
"He was right here a moment ago!" the big man said.
"I expect he was embarrassed at the level your conversation had fallen to, and decided to leave." Mary Ann glared at the Skipper and tightened her arms across her chest.
"Mary Ann, we're sorry we got mixed up," the Skipper said in a pleading tone. "But we all know Gilligan never quite says what he means!"
"Humph," sniffed Mary Ann.
"What can we do to make it up to you?" the Skipper went on, almost grovelling by now.
"We'll think of something," Mary Ann responded. "Won't we, Ginger?"
The movie star, enjoying every minute of the men's discomfort, smiled like the cat who got the cream. "I'm sure we will, Mary Ann. I'm sure we will."
It was finally dinner time, and five of the castaways sat expectantly around the table waiting for their meal to be served. Gilligan was explaining to Ginger that he'd gotten bored and had decided to go butterfly hunting after all. Meanwhile, the immaculately dressed Howells were becoming impatient.
"I must say, the service in this restaurant is very shoddy!" Mr. Howell said, making a great show of looking at his watch. "If they don't hurry up, my appetiser will become my dessert!"
Mary Ann leaned across the table with an excited grin. "Now, don't forget, Mr. Howell, Mrs. Howell. I know it's not exactly the done thing at dinner, but if you'd just play along with us for a few minutes, and then we can start the meal."
Mrs. Howell smiled courteously. "Of course, dear," she said. "I'm quite familiar with the occasional need to put a man in his place."
Mary Ann and Ginger giggled together. Gilligan laughed too, but with a slightly confused frown on his brow that indicated he still wasn't quite sure exactly what the joke was.
Ginger began tapping her bamboo cup with her fork. "We're ready to be served!" she trilled.
The Howells, Ginger, Gilligan and Mary Ann all looked expectantly towards the supply hut as the Skipper and the Professor slowly emerged. There was muffled laughter from the girls as the two embarrassed looking men approached the table. Each wore a woman's apron tied around their waists – the Skipper's had a flowery pattern on it while the Professor's apron was gingham with a frilly trim. In their hands they held four of the girls' newly made pottery items, two brimming with pineapple juice, the others with water. They shuffled their feet awkwardly as Mary Ann looked around the table at her smiling cohorts.
"All together now?" she giggled. "One...two...three..."
The Skipper rolled his eyes and the Professor sighed and shook his head in a world-weary fashion as everyone at the table, including Gilligan and Mrs. Howell, shouted at the top of their voices;